Christmas Box: A Hellmark Special
by InkWorthy
Summary: A newly-single Kirsty has moved back into her father's old house and is trying to find the holiday spirit, while old faces find her. Pinsty.


_I initially intended to have this entire story done by Christmas Eve, but holiday plans got in the way of that. I want this to be a more limited story, since its premise is pretty seasonal and also utterly absurd, but we'll see!  
_

* * *

Snow coated the streets in thick blankets, covering everything from street signs to what bits of the LED lights they could cling to before melting away. The air was crisp, the night young, the town illuminated in the soft golds and reds that only came from Christmas lights. Around her Kirsty could hear happy chatter, the excited murmurings of families preparing for the 25th, the laughter of children. Really, the town was a vision - a perfect snapshot of winter wonder, almost fairytale-like in its warmth.

She had a much easier time directing her attention outward, towards the streets and the lights and the winter night, than she did to the unlit house that loomed behind her. She had been staving off the ache in her chest by absorbing the sight of the neighborhood, but the box in her hands was getting heavy and she knew she'd have to go in eventually. She took in a breath and let it out, watching it crystallize in the cool night, before turning around to face the building.

The patio was new, as was almost everything else; before she had even considered moving in Kirsty had sunk a significant portion of her inheritance into tearing this place apart and scrubbing every trace of the past from its premises. The cream-and-brown exterior of before was replaced with steel blue panelling and slate stonework; the entire attic had been destroyed and rebuilt from the inside out, not a single original floorboard or panel in place. Even the stained glass window was replaced with something more blue and understated; the only things Kirsty couldn't destroy were the brick fences and the memories of all that had occurred here. Her life, her safety, her sense of normalcy, and most importantly her father had all died in this house.

And now it was hers.

Kirsty walked through the front door and was greeted with furniture covered in plastic sheets; for a split second she imagined a chattering figure emerging from beneath one, but dismissed the image with a shake of her head. The dining room was more unpacked, though it was sparse; table, chairs, bare essentials in the fridge and cabinets. She set the box - lightbulbs and electronic fixtures - on the table and sat down with a sigh.

She really, _really _hadn't wanted to end up back here. There had always been a quiet aversion to this place, even saying its name, in the back of her head; any fondness for the neighborhood was saturated in her father's blood and her own trauma. She at least had the comfort of knowing that horrid Channard Institute was long gone; when she'd driven by and seen construction of a retirement home in progress on what remained of it, Kirsty had allowed herself a vindictive chuckle. That was the only positive, though; even if the house was unrecognizable, phantoms were still bubbling in her stomach and crawling up her throat.

Dinner consisted of leftover Chinese takeout and microwave soup; Kirsty would have cooked something, but the thought of groceries was almost too domestic, too home-like for a place like this. She supposed it would _have _to be home, though; she had been on the cusp of moving in with her boyfriend, Trevor, when she'd walked in on him and his boss while dropping off a surprise lunch. And, well, she had a house.

(She'd but it on the market, but honestly, she wasn't surprised at how easy it was to take it back off.)

She downed the last of her sub-par noodles and scanned the space; the box was full of things she didn't want to deal with, and she couldn't take out the big stuff in the living room without the moving guys, and her room wasn't full enough to really spend any time in, beyond hunting for a job. She _hated _using the inheritance, since it felt like blood money, but it was all she had in the sudden move. "All she had" was quite a cushy sum, enough to do all this and still be able to think _I need a job _without feeling a spike of panic, but it felt paltry compared to what she didn't have - family, friends, any idea of where to go next.

Damn, this house was depressing the _fuck _out of her. Kirsty stood up, pulled her coat back on, and stepped back outside.

It was early evening, and the lights had cast a golden glow on the pavement where the snow had melted into mist. Everything twinkled; even as the door shut behind her Kirsty felt her spirit lifting at the sight. There really was nothing like the sight of Christmas in full swing, and there were even children still playing outside! Their laughter and the distant chime of the ever-present Christmas music drew a small smile from her face, and Kirsty stepped onto the street, feeling the blissful crunch of pure white beneath her boots.

"I should buy myself a tree," she said to nobody in particular as she walked down the street. Everyone had their lights up; soft yellows and vibrant reds against white, trees entwined and draped in the glow of LEDs. "Not a big tree, but something to stick in the living room..." She let her mind wander as she drifted up and down the block, and as she did she pictured it in her head; a small spruce covered in all the old ornaments shoved in a box in her truck full of boxes she hadn't even known her dad had saved. Some presents she wrapped for herself, things like books she wanted to read or a set of fancy hot chocolate mixes or even just those really, really soft towels she'd seen while shopping for the new house, but skipped because they'd been too expensive.

The thought of something so small, in spite of everything, was cheering her up immensely. Kirsty turned at the end of the block and headed back for her truck, intend on finding something just for herself, just because it was Christmas and she would _not _let this miserable house stay a miserable house and make _her _miserable.

As Kirsty pulled herself into the driver's side, she adjusted her mirror and caught herself smiling into the reflection. The smile stayed; it was the first time she'd had a real one in weeks.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy," she murmured, "I won't let myself spoil it, I promise." She took off into town, the glimmering lights slowly shrinking behind her.


End file.
